


Crowning Glory

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Series: Wasteland Wanderings  - Kinkmeme Prompts [2]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hair Kink, Mild Gore, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:04:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5770576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hancock has never seen hair that long. Despite how impractical it is, he quickly develops a fascination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowning Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Another kink meme fill, for the prompt: "I just want to see a SS who really took pride in and great care of her long hair and doesn't want to cut off years of growing it out just because of the apocalypse." http://falloutkinkmeme.livejournal.com/6855.html?thread=16893127#t16893127
> 
> Light smut.

Nora is not the type of woman to fuss with her looks, but if she has one vanity, it is her hair. Full and wavy, the curling ends just brushing the crest of her hips, her hair is probably one of the most ridiculous things Hancock's ever seen out here, just because of it's sheer impracticality. And he loves it, even as he marvels at the inconvenience she's willing to put up with for something as trivial as hair.

Plenty of people have tried to convince Nora to cut her hair, and she has always politely refused every one. Hancock can't help but agree with their arguments, if he's being honest. No matter how tightly she braids the thick mass of it, a few rebellious strands always manage to escape. It's a good look for her, the way the loose bits frame her face and flutter against the smooth column of her neck, but he also knows it's an undeniable risk in the middle of a fight. Nothing has managed to snatch a hold of those soft tresses yet, but he stays extra close with his shotgun, just in case.

Keeping all that hair clean is a chore, and one Nora spends an obscene amount of time on. Hancock is relentless in his teasing, even as he finds there is something soothing in watching her. Her task has nothing to do with the constant struggle to stay alive another day, and perhaps it's the frivolity of it that he finds so appealing. There's a wild beauty to her when she fights, all ferocity and deadly grace, that steers his thoughts straight to the gutter, but it's when her nimble fingers work to comb out the plait she's wrestled her unruly locks into, when the tension drains from her face and her eyes close in pleasure, that he finds her truly breath-taking. His hands itch to bury themselves in the long tendrils of her hair, to feel the weight and silk of it slide through his fingers. The chance comes, but not in the way he expected.

Hancock and Nora have just finished clearing out a camp of raiders, and while they weren't exactly the smartest bunch he'd ever come across, they made up for it in number. It's been a long day and the two of them are exhausted, but before they can find a decent place to hole up for the night, they're swarmed by a group of bloodbugs.

He can tolerate most species, even the ones that usually end up trying to kill him. It's all in the name of survival and he gets it. But there is something about having his own blood sucked out and then spit back in his face that just pisses him off. It doesn't help that the damn things dart around so much that he has trouble taking proper aim. Between the two of them, they've managed to take out all but one of the bugs. This last one seems to take some kind of perverse joy in diving in to bite and then flitting away to circle their heads, effectively blocking any kind of shot unless they want to risk accidentally hitting each other.

Hancock's had enough of the little bastard's games, and the loud drone of its wings is threatening to send him over the edge. He sees an opening when it hovers above them, probably preparing for another dive, and takes it without thinking. This close, accuracy isn't that important, and the spread of the shot is more than enough to make the bug literally explode in a shower of gore. He hears a low moan from Nora and dark eyes sweep over her, searching for injury. He has to bite what remains of his lip to keep from laughing as he realizes the sound was one of disgust.

Nora is covered in a mess of blood, bits of the bug stuck in that wealth of hair. At the look she gives him, he finally loses what little composure he was trying to hold onto and laughs, long and loud.

She swats at his arm, looking miffed, but the twitching of her lips gives her away, and before long, she joins him. They manage to find a small pond that's little more than a glorified puddle and Hancock keeps watch while she does her best to wash the gunk out of her hair. Her success is limited, and without a mirror, it falls to him to try to direct her to the parts she's missed.

This goes on for several minutes before she heaves an exasperated sigh and turns to peer at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes as she holds her hairbrush out to him. He hesitates only for a moment before reaching out and taking it from her, and the way she turns back around and gets comfortable, the trust she shows, stirs something deep within him. He inwardly cringes at the sentiment, but can't help but feel like he's been given a precious gift. Such a simple thing, and yet he can't quite recall the last time he shared something so intimate with another person. It wakes in him a longing so deep it hurts, though even he can't quite figure out what it is he longs for.

Hancock gathers her hair in one hand and sets to work with the brush, his movements slow and tentative at first but changing to long sweeps as he gains confidence. Even damp, her hair is softer than he imagined, and as it dries, he relishes the sleek feel of it in his hands. Nora's head rolls forward and she releases a sigh of contentment that has him shifting awkwardly as the sound goes straight to his groin. He finishes quickly after that and hands the brush back, not wanting her to see just how much this small act has effected him.

He thinks he sees something akin to disappointment in the depths of her eyes as she takes her brush back, is certain he imagines her small intake of breath as his fingers accidentally brush hers, but later, he'll look back and realize that this was a turning point. Something changed between them, and this was when it started.

The first time she kisses him, it's just a quick press of her mouth against his, but it stops him cold. He can only stare, something like astonishment written across his scarred features. A blinding smile curves her lips and they part to let loose a gentle laugh as she tips her head up to repeat the gesture. It's something he's only dreamed of, and part of him wonders if this is truly happening, but even if it is just a product of his overstimulated subconscious, he's not going to waste the moment. He runs his tongue along her bottom lip and her mouth opens, allowing him to deepen the kiss as his fingers tangle themselves in the shining waves that crown her head.

He thinks it will stop there, and while it won't be enough – he doubts he could ever get enough of her- it will be more than he ever expected. It doesn't, though. Hancock halts her wandering hands, gathering them gently in his own, and asks her if this is really what she wants. He needs to be sure because he doesn't think he could bear to see her eyes dim with regret. Nora frees her hands and brings one up to rest against his cheek.

“I want you, John,” she whispers against his mouth, and then she is straddling him while her hands fumble with the button to his pants, the long curtain of her hair falling around them. She tugs at his coat next, and then he's shifting so she can lift his shirt over his head and all the while, his heart is beating so fast he's not sure the fragile cage of his ribs will be enough to contain it. He raises a shaking hand to brush her hair back from her face so he can see her expression as she sinks down on him. Nora's features are relaxed into a look of such absolute bliss that he nearly comes undone right then. He has to bite the inside of his cheek when she begins to move, keeps one hand curled around the curve of her hip as the tips of her hair brush the tops of his thighs.

The rhythm she sets is slow and languid, the tight warmth of her agonizingly sweet. He kneads her breast, enjoying the firm weight of it, but it's the patterns the dying light paints on her long tresses that truly has him captivated. Her hair bounces with her movements, the last rays of the sun catching the strands until she's cloaked in a shimmering veil. He's drunk on sensation and the heady rush of it all makes him bold. Hancock reaches out and grasps a handful of the shining silk and tugs, the gentle but insistent pressure forcing her head back and exposing her throat.

Nora lets out a sharp gasp as her eyes go wide, pupils blown. His name pours from her lips as her body goes taut in his arms and then she's clenching around him, writhing and gasping moans as she rides out her peak. He's briefly fascinated by her reaction before all coherent thought is swept away in the tide of his own orgasm. His mouth latches on to the smooth skin of her throat and his vision fades to white. There's a low, gutteral cry that he is vaguely aware came from him and then the only sound is the dull roar of blood in his ears and the staccato of their panting breaths as they struggle to regain control of their breathing.

Hancock watches her with bated breath as she climbs off of his lap and stands on shaky legs. This is normally when his dalliances end, and if that's what Nora wants, he can't really blame her. He's used to hookups being purely physical, nothing more significant than scratching an itch. He's way past that with her, has been for weeks now, but if that's all it was for Nora, he'll do his best to bite back his feelings and let things continue as they were. She's too dear to him to risk what they do have just because he wants more.

Nora chuckles a bit as she lifts the heavy mass of her hair off her neck and fans her heated face. She meets his eyes and her face flushes further as she offers him a shy but happy smile. After a moment she looks away and begins rummaging through her pack for a canister of water. He watches the muscles of her throat work as she drinks deeply, accepts the water when she offers it to him and then takes his own drink to hide his sudden discomfort. When Hancock looks back, she has stretched herself out on the dirty mattress and is eying him expectantly. He cocks a brow in question, unsure what it is she wants from him. He wants to hope that he already knows, but this fear of crossing a line he can't come back from is still too great.

Just as he clears his throat to break the awkward silence that is growing bewteen them, Nora rolls her eyes and shakes her head in exasperation, the motion sending ripples through the veil of her hair.

“Get over here, John,” she says, her lips tilting upward in a fond smile as she pats the space beside her. “I happen to take post-coital cuddling quite seriously.”

He thinks his heart might just finally quit on him as he dares to think that maybe they're both looking for the same thing. Relaxing his mouth into an easy smirk, he gets to his feet and lazily kicks off his boots.

“Think I can live with that, doll.” The words are spoken in a low drawl, and he takes note of the way Nora's teeth fasten onto her bottom lip at the sound of them.

As soon as he's lying beside her, she rolls over to face him and scoots until she is flush against him, her head tucked beneath his chin. He wraps an arm around her and buries his ruined nose into her hair. The scent of it, somehow both fruity and floral, immediately envelops him and he breathes her in and holds the breath like he would a hit of jet, committing it to memory. Lamenting the lack of shampoo, he knows she uses some kind of rinse that she makes on her hair, but he's rarely close enough to appreciate the subtle fragrance it leaves. Hancock idly combs his fingers through the soft tresses and she sighs like a sleepy cat.

Within minutes, Nora's breathing turns slow and even, and though there is a pleasant heaviness to his limbs his mind is still too wired to sleep. He watches the woman in his arms through half-lidded eyes and can't stop himself from thinking she fits against him like she belongs there. Wrapping a few tendrils of her hair around his fingers, he smiles at her stubborness in keeping it such an irrational length and then decides it suits her. She takes such pride in it, and it really would be a shame to sacrifice something so pretty for the sake of practicality. This world could use more beauty.


End file.
